


I Know When It's a Dream

by MalikaiFlame



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bleeding Out, Canon-Typical Violence, Diego Hargreeves Whump, Flashbacks, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Trapped, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikaiFlame/pseuds/MalikaiFlame
Summary: While attempting to escape from the attack at the bowling alley, Diego gets shot. Klaus tries to stop the bleeding, and is forced to face the potential death of someone he loves, again.A rewrite of 1.10 "The White Violin."
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	1. Sometimes I Think It's Me

None of the Hargreeves children would ever have thought of the SuperStar Bowling Alley as a home. But, that isn’t saying much, because they didn’t even consider their  _ home _ home a home. The SuperStar Bowling Alley was, however, a haven. A preservation. A physical space that harbored the few memories of childhood they had, because it’s not like there was a plethora of those hanging around. 

The stale stench of sweaty sneakers and greasy pizza made on the cheap served as a repellent of sorts from their father; keeping his persuasion, his lessons, outside the alley’s walls and, despite all of his training, the Hargreeves children were just that: children. And there must be something about the tacky, neon carpet and the fluorescent lights that bring out the childlike nature out of even the most hardened of people, because it was one of the only places where their childlike moments had room to simply be. Somewhere, sandwiched between hierarchical training tournaments at the Academy, and stopping bad guys in their tracks, the SuperStar Bowling Alley made space for getting frustrated with claw machines, and making fun of siblings when they threw gutter balls. A place where they knew their father wasn’t watching. A place where bad guys never came.

Maybe that’s why Klaus felt off. Felt an odd energy coming from each of his siblings as they paced around their lane, pretending to bowl. Pretending they weren’t all thinking of the people they were when they had last been here. Pretending they couldn’t feel the weight of all they had lived through since then. Pretending that it was some sort of tactic to choose this spot to flee to, rather than because the only place that felt safe. When Luther had yelled at them to meet up here, an odd sense of unease came to rest in Klaus’ stomach. Seeing the alley now, in this moment, it made him feel like a child, and it made him want to be one again. 

And speaking of children…

Klaus’ mind wandered to his siblings. He had watched Allison and Luther sneak out the front door, feeling slightly guilty about spilling the “Luther popped his cherry” news to Allison the way he had. But it was good for them. Luther needed to be knocked down a peg every once in awhile, and he was more than capable of bouncing back, and honestly, maybe Allison would finally make her move if she felt there might be a deadline to Luther’s crush. Although Klaus rolled his eyes at the thought. That would never happen. The poor boy was lovesick.

“Alright. Where’s Five?” Luther asked, his voice jarring Klaus from his thoughts.

_ Speak of the devil. _

“He left.” Diego responded, noncommittal, and not missing a beat.

Luther threw his hands in the air. “Oh, for the love of… Where’d he go?”

“Didn’t tell us.” Diego responded again, his tone remaining the same.

Slightly entertained, Klaus could tell that pissed Luther off. He didn’t dare crack a smile though. Having known Luther his entire life, he could tell when the man was close to a tantrum, and he wasn’t as willing to poke the bear as Diego was. Stepping over the plastic chairs, Klaus reached for a nearby bag of popcorn. Where had it come from? He had no idea. But why waste it. It was still good, and he always did enjoy it when his siblings bickered. It made for a good show, even if the apocalypse was only a few hours away. 

“Well, we’re not waiting around for him. The concert starts in 30 minutes.” Luther hissed through clenched teeth.

The seriousness of the implication dampened the mood, making Diego drop the act. 

“All right, so what’s the plan?”

Klaus settled in, ready to hear what Luther had in mind. In fact, all of his siblings leaned in expectantly, waiting to hear their next steps. To fall in line and hold their hands out for Luther to give them their roles.

_ Years of training well spent, Dad.  _

“Well, I think that… uh…” Luther fumbled, “To the Icarus Theatre.”

“That’s a location, not a plan.” Diego countered, deadpan and not missing a beat, throwing the ball right back into Luther’s court after he had clearly tried so hard to be rid of it.

All Luther could do was roll his eyes in response.

“What?” Diego challenged, approaching his brother, “Is that all you got?”

Luther’s glare just tightened, but he didn’t answer.

Diego huffed in disbelief, a smile void of any humor spreading across his face, “Look, you want to be Number One, fine, but you’re gonna have to get us on the same page, because right now, we’re all over the place.”

“You’re right!” Klaus feigned surprise, mostly for his own enjoyment. “We do need a plan.” 

_ It didn’t hurt to stir the pot just a little bit. _

Both Diego and Luther turned to look at him in complete annoyance, the exhaustion on their faces so similar it made them almost look biologically related.

_ God, was so much fun to be unhelpful. _

It’s Diego who notices first, his unamused, dull eyes shifting their line of sight to just over Klaus’ shoulder, widening in surprise. Klaus frowned in confusion, turning around to follow his brother’s gaze, finding a plethora of faceless, armored men flooding through the entrance doors. Before he had the chance to react, the sound of gunfire broke out.

_ Shit. _

Klaus hit the floor, the sharp, whizzing of bullets flying over him. He could feel someone else crash to the ground behind him. His body prickled at the sensation, his senses on high alert and he instinctively grounded himself through them. A battle is often won long before the first strike. It’s knowing where your allies are. He reached backwards, gripping onto the person’s arm. He could feel it shaking. _Allison._

Across the way, ducking behind a bowling ball rack, Klaus locked eyes with his brothers. 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Diego yelled over the rain of bullets.

Covering his ears, Klaus shouted back, “Maybe they’re here for Kenny’s birthday!” He felt Allison smack the back of his head in response, and she looked like she wanted to kill him. Klaus knew he would prefer the bullets.

“Nah. I’m pretty sure they’re here for us.” Luther responded, not giving Klaus the credit he felt his joke deserved. The man was in full battle mode.

A bowling ball exploded next to Klaus, making him duck down lower. He covered his head and squeezed his eyes shut as fractured debris cut his face.

The onslaught of bullets lightened.  _ Reloading _ . Diego, who had always been the quickest, monopolized on the moment, shot up from his cover and threw a knife. The lights went off, music started, and the Hargreeves siblings sprung into action.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y! 

Klaus only spared a moment to watch the disco lights glide over his hand, the alley lights switching between harsh neon blue and green. A rather festive way to go out. He turned his attention back towards the doors.

“They’re blocking the exit!”

He felt Allison hitting him urgently. Following her gaze and finding them landing on the gutters at the end of the bowling lane, he knew exactly what she was trying to say.

He waved desperately across the way at Luther and Diego. Once their eyes locked on his, he pointed in the direction Allison had, and that was all they needed.

Together, the fractured, remaining members of the Umbrella Academy made the desperate dash. If Klaus hadn’t been preoccupied with his fear of being shot, he may have taken a moment to appreciate the aesthetic of it all. How it looked like it came straight out of  _ Across the Universe _ , but instead of singing a song dedicated to mulling over a newfound love, his dance was accompanied by the squeak of bowling shoes, and the pulsing of gunfire. Kind of ruined the mood.

The sprint down the bowling lane was both the shortest and longest run of his life. The shortest, because the distance was lost on him, his mind completely preoccupied on the wall of gunfire behind his back. He ran forward with the single mindedness of a fighter. The one he was trained to be. One destination. One focus. It was also the longest, his mind registering each pop. Each shot. Each flash of light. Wondering which one, if one, would hit.

In a desperate dive, Klaus braced himself as his body slammed into a rack of bowling pins. Toppling through the pit and into the secret, hidden underworld of bowling lanes. From a world of loud music and neon lights to one of solid, unforgiving concrete and the smell of rubber. Klaus hit the ground hard, and he groaned quietly, giving himself a moment to recover before standing up. Klaus looked at the pins around him and back up at where he had fallen from. A clean sweep. 

_ Strike! _

A brief, high-pitched laugh escaped Klaus as he took a moment to breathe, the dive giving him a moment of cover from the hailstorm of bullets above him. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his body, making him shake, and he ran his hand through his hair, to feel out some of the nervous energy. Placing his hand on the wall, he felt soil.

And froze.

In the foxholes.

His throat tightened against him, his breaths becoming harsh and labored.

_ Fight it off. Shake it off. _

The whirring of gunfire above him. Stuck. In the ground.

He tried to breath past the ringing in his ears, to stop the world from slowing to a numbing halt, but it did. And it felt as if all the noise around him was fighting through water to reach him. He could hear the war. The smell of dirt and powder and sweat and fear. He forced another laugh, because laughing hurt less than remembering, and he didn’t want to remember. But he could feel remembering winning.

“Klaus!”

The ringing intensified, making Klaus pinch the bridge of his nose in pain.

“Klaus, come on!”

_ Luther… _

The thought came to him slowly, just as the voice had. It felt foreign. Out of place. The world his brother existed in, and the one he was fighting to keep at bay didn’t live together.

But he had been built to hide weakness.

Klaus looked at his brother, met his gaze with a lighthearted grin, as if he were feeling the thrill of the moment. Masking the attack he was fighting. He watched as Luther half-heartedly smiled back, the smile never making it to his eyes. There was still a sense of danger nearby. As his brother grabbed Allison’s hand and turned to run, Klaus tried his best to ignore the faint flashed of gunfire reflected on his brother’s face. Tried to ignore the dirt exploding around his brother’s feet. Explosions his brother couldn’t see. Explosions he knew couldn’t be there, but he still couldn’t help but flinch away from nonetheless. 

Remembering was winning.

He just needed a second. Just a second.

He could get back.

He started after his siblings, watching them disappear around the corner.

“Klaus?”

Klaus turned towards his name, the voice soft. He shuddered, a cold sense of dread shooting down his back. He breathed through it, willing the feeling to be forced out of his body along with it. A voice he knew, but it didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound right. He didn’t like this part. He didn’t want to see this part again.

_ Dave. _

He didn’t want to look. But he knew it wouldn’t go away if he didn’t.

But it wasn’t Dave.

His eyes widened when they landed on Diego, with both relief and surprise. It was another second before Klaus noticed him leaning heavily against the wall, clutching at his side. Diego met his eyes, and Klaus could see pain. He knew that look. Afraid to break it off. Afraid that reality would slip away from him if he did. Afraid that he would fall into a memory. But he slowly looked down to his brother’s hands, which were covered in a deep red. 

“So, slight problem...”

Klaus’ legs threatened to give out.

Remembering was winning.


	2. But It's All Wrong

“Klaus?”

The way Diego said his name. The thin, mild tremor, lost of all bravado, made him sound like he was a kid. It sounded like the time he had called out for their mother after a nightmare, when he was six. It sounded like the time he had gotten caught sneaking out when he was ten, after getting yelled at by their father. It sounded like the time he failed his first mission, when he was 11. It sounded like everything that had made his brother his brother was lost. As if the persona he had created for himself, the walls he had built, crumbled to fear.

And Klaus couldn’t fucking move.

It was as if Diego’s eyes, pleading for help, cemented Klaus where he was. The transfer of terror paralyzing. The weight of the realization immobilizing. Klaus tried to say something. Anything. But his mouth just opened and closed uselessly, all the words he wanted to say getting stuck in his throat, choking him.

_ Diego was shot. _

_ Was he going to die? _

_ Like… Da-- _

_ no no no no no no _

Klaus smacked the sides of his head, pulling at his hair in distress.  _ Not again. _

Diego’s voice cut through his memories. “Klaus. Come on, man.” 

Klaus fought to get his attention trained back to his brother, forcing the battlefield, the dirt… Dave… away. Slumped deeper against the concrete wall, Klaus could see his brother’s legs trembling at the strain of keeping himself upright. Diego’s labored breath hitched as another wave of pain rolled over him, and he curled into himself, letting his body start to slide down the wall just as a shadow passed above them, right at the gutters, cutting off the disco lights.

_ The shooters. _

The movement snapped Klaus out of his paralysis, and he ran to his brother, catching him just as he was about to land on the ground hard, his legs completely giving out from under him. 

“Hey! Hey! Come on, Diego!” Klaus pleaded. As Diego leaned heavily against him, Klaus weaved himself underneath his brother’s arm, using every ounce of strength he had to hoist his brother back into a standing position, all the while refusing to acknowledge the warm, sticky substance that was starting to mingle in between his fingers. “We gotta move."

Diego winced, groaning in protest at the sudden movement, but held his tongue, determination finding a home in his gaze as he got his legs back under him.

A little ways away, Klaus heard the toppling of pins and he knew that they weren’t going to be alone much longer. Those men weren’t far behind. And Diego knew it too.

Klaus shifted under Diego’s weight, trying to get a solid grip on his brother. A groan, quickly cut off, escaped Diego as he swallowed the pain.

Then clutching onto Klaus harder, Diego gave a brisk, determined nod and started to walk as best he could. Klaus tried to ignore the sound of boots hitting the floor. He knew it was only a matter of time before those men would catch up. He could feel Diego pushing himself, his breaths becoming more and more labored at the strain as he tried to pick up his pace. Every few steps, Diego’s feet would slip out from underneath him, a ghost of a fall, and Klaus tried his best to catch him every time. But Diego was heavy. And Klaus could feel his strength leaving with every passing moment. Each time Diego stumbled, tripped, Klaus found it harder and harder to regain purchase, his own strength fading as well.

Every inch of Klaus’ body was screaming at him to run, to get as much distance between himself and danger, but he knew he couldn’t. 

The sound of heavy, sprinting footsteps echoed behind them, getting close.

It was Diego who said what they both were thinking.

“I’m not going to make it, Klaus.” Diego forced through gritted teeth. “I can’t move fast enough.”

Klaus scanned their surroundings desperately. For anything. For them to get lucky. Just once. ““Hang on! Just let me think.”

“It’s stupid to let both of us get caught.” Diego pressed, and Klaus could feel his cheeks starting to flush in anger. Or perhaps denial.

“Shut up, Diego.” Klaus snapped. “I can figure something out!”

_ Where the hell were Luther and Allison when you needed them? _

“How is it you’re the most selfish person I know, until you actually need to be?” Diego snapped back. “Selflessness doesn’t look good on you.”

“And self-sacrifice doesn’t look good on you.”

Diego let out a groan of frustration. “Seriously, do you have any idea how annoying that is?”

And maybe, if they had been in a different situation. A different moment. Maybe if Diego wasn’t bleeding out. If Diego’s fight wasn’t a fraction of what Klaus knew he could give. Maybe if his brother’s grip on his shoulder wasn’t loosening as each moment passed. If Klaus wasn’t remembering, then maybe Klaus would’ve been able to enjoy the moment. In a way, they sounded petty. They sounded like siblings. 

But they weren’t in a different situation. Diego was bleeding out. He could feel his brother weakening. Klaus was, indeed, remembering.

And the hallway seemed endless.

The hallways never used to feel like this. 

In their younger years, Klaus was notoriously known for his short attention span. If he was engaged, if something caught his attention, he was all in. The moment he lost interest, however, it was as if it had never existed. Oftentimes, he would beg any of his siblings to go bowling with him, only to lose interest a few frames into a game, pulling a disappearing act. Something shiny catching his eye. His attention being pulled elsewhere.

The secret underworld of the bowling alley fascinated him. The quiet hum of rotating machines slowed his ever-buzzing mind. He liked the quiet. How the thudding of tacky music bounced faintly off the walls, giving them life. Almost like a heartbeat that he could center himself around. The coldness balancing the heat. The potent smell of rubber masking the joints he used to sneak, before he realized no one cared enough to stop him. It had been a place where he could lose the facade. Didn’t have to be funny. He could drop the act, and just be _ tired _ . He had loved the thrill of each turn, the comfort of losing himself for once. He had chased after the sense of freedom that came with that disorientation, as if the further he ventured into the concrete labyrinth, the more he had been able to escape. The more he had been able to disappear.

But that was before the mausoleum. Before he realized that sometimes, there wasn’t a way out. Before stagnant walls had a constricting power to them. Before they held the memories of being trapped. Before they enclosed him with his fears, crushing him under the weight of being alone and helpless. 

The hallways weren’t a sanctuary anymore. They were a crypt. A foxhole. A grave. And Klaus felt like he was being buried alive.

Pivoting around a corner, Klaus nearly cried when he saw the exit sign; a faint, red signal in the dark. They were close.

But the stampede of footsteps behind them was closer.

The janitor’s closet was closest.

“Diego…”

His brother nodded curtly. “I see it.”

Klaus only took a moment to look behind them. The pounding of the men’s approach was getting louder; the echoes bouncing off the walls becoming louder, but they weren’t there yet. They couldn’t see them yet. But it was close.

Too close to be gentle.

In a desperate lunge, Klaus threw himself and his brother roughly into the closet, knocking over mops and assorted cleaning supplies, which didn’t treat Diego too kindly as he fell heavily on top of them. Diego cried in pain as he landed onto the ground, curling into himself tightly, trying to breath through it.

Klaus slammed the door shut behind him, praying they had made it before the armored men had been able to see their detour, but Diego’s small, strangled gasps of pain split his focus. In a panic, he rushed to his brother’s side, kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Not me, you idiot!” Diego gritted through his teeth, shoving Klaus’ concerned hands away from him. “The keys, Klaus. Get the fucking _ keys _ !”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry!” Klaus scrambled back onto his feet, desperately scanning their surroundings, until his eyes landed on a full rack of keys, and his spirits sunk. Urgently, he tried to read through the faded lettering on masked tape hanging over each set.  _ Front door. Fridge. Party Room 1. Party Room 2. Locker room. Janitor’s.  _

_ Yes. _

Ripping the key off its hook, Klays dashed back to the door.

And froze.

Underneath the slit at the bottom of the door, he could see beams of light, swinging in the hands of their hunters as they ran. The dull thudding of boots as men rushed past, still in heated, violent pursuit. Shadows dancing on the floor in front of him. The clacking of heavy armor just on the other side. A metal slab being the only thing separating them. 

And this was the closest Klaus had ever been to praying. He watched the knob with an intense focus, willing it to keep from turning. Wishing it was locked. All those men had to do was test the door, and he and his brother were dead. Cornered. Like prey. He slowly kneeled onto the ground, to get below eyesight, in case they were to come in. It could give them at least a moment. A breath of a chance.

He stayed, frozen in his semi-standing position, trying to push past the growing ache in his legs. As if any shuffle, any movement would give them away. He held his breath, feeling his brother doing the same. Diego’s grip tightened on Klaus’ sleeve, and Klaus wondered for a moment if Diego felt like praying too.

Then, time stood still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are enjoying this so far. I'm really wanting to get back into writing fic, because I took a really weird headspace turn at some point during quarantine and really lost that focus and motivation when it came to writing. This one is an idea I've had for some time, and thought it would be a great way to jump back into this.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos, views, and comments. They're very motivating, and I always love to hear from you.


	3. Living is Easy with Eyes Closed

Klaus had always been interested in the news. Not in the boring “As a global citizen, it’s important to keep up with the world” kind of way, but more in the “Man. Sometimes humans can do some crazy shit” kind of way. He often scoured newspapers and magazines, seeking the next ridiculous tale. The stories of mothers who lift cars to save their child after a car crash. Or, the stories where people magically knew how to defuse a bomb, or a hostage who was able to talk down some gunman. The ones where people got to be superhuman for a moment and earned their five minutes of fame. The kind of power referred to as “hysterical strength.” Outdated terminology, in Klaus’ opinion, but interesting nonetheless. 

He didn’t exactly know why he liked them. Maybe it was the noncommittal nature of it all. How people were able to be heroes, without the baggage. Maybe it’s because, even though he had lived his entire life with supernatural abilities, he had never felt like a hero. Maybe he saw promise for himself in those stories. If those without powers were able to show up in heroic ways, maybe he could too, if the right situation came along.

If his “hysterical strength” were to pick a moment, Klaus thought this might be a good one.

But instead, he was floundering. It seemed he was apt to indulge in the “hysterical” part of “hysterical strength”, but it seemed the “strength” was still waiting on the sidelines. Typical. Predictable. Klaus had always thought his father had bought the wrong kid. Bet on the wrong horse when he acquired him. Because while Klaus had been born with superhuman powers, he had not been born of superhuman morale. 

Instead, as he watched the flickering light of men rushing past, he could barely focus on anything other than the pounding in his ears, and how his heartbeat fluttered, getting caught in his throat and quietly strangling him. How his stomach stung with fear. How he knew that it was guaranteed they would die if that door was opened, because who was he to stop them? He knew if it were Luther, the man wouldn’t be in this damn closet in the first place. He would be out, guns blazing with his “take no prisoners” macho-man persona. Allison would have half of them out cold by now, then bend the other half to her wishes. Five, well, Five was Five. Hell, even Diego, if he weren’t bleeding out on the fucking floor, wouldn’t have a problem. He would bet that even Vanya would be able to pull off some “sweet, innocent summer child” ruse too. Ben, if Klaus could at least manage to summon him again, would have made mince meat out of them by now, but Klaus couldn’t even do that right.

No. Klaus was utterly useless.

One might have thought he, at the very least, had experience with gunshot wounds. He was in a goddamn war. But, even there he was a failure. Wholly inept. In fact, he had only been close enough to try to do something once. And Dave was already dead.

The steady stream of footfalling started to die down, and the light from the hallway started to shine underneed the door without interference. Klaus still waited to breathe, paralyzed, refusing to trust their sheer, dumb luck. The Hargreeves were never so lucky.

And he may have stayed like that forever, rooted in place, too scared to move, if Diego hadn’t moaned in pain, finally letting out what he had been holding in, twisting Klaus’ sleeve in distress. Klaus gripped his brother’s arm in return, his eyes pleading for Diego to look back at him, but Diego just threw his head back, his back arching off the ground as the hurt rolled through him.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, Diego!” Klaus hushed. “Shh! It’s okay!”

Diego turned to look at him, glaring daggers as best he could. “Oh, is it? Thanks, doc.”

_ There’s the asshole we all know and love. _

In response, Klaus laid his hand over his brother’s, which was still gripping him tightly. “I need you to let go. I still have to lock the door.”

Through the pain, Diego frowned in confusion, then shifted to surprise as he registered his hand, tangled in Klaus’ jacket. Breathing through it, Diego jerkily released Klaus, his hand only moving to claw at the floor, still ridged in pain.

Once the door was locked, an undeserved wave of relief crashed over Klaus. It wasn’t like that door could withstand a direct attack for long, but he sure as hell felt better. Until he looked back at Diego.

His brother looked pale, his skin looking paper-thin and drenched in sweat. Klaus could see him fighting the urge to yell, shout, scream, with each breath he forced himself to take. Arching his neck, stiff with the strain, Diego had his eyes clenched shut, as if it was too much to keep them open. Underneath him, a steady flow of crimson had begun to pool, staining the gaudy tile floor.

“Where is it?”

Wordlessly, Diego signaled to his side, carefully removing his hand.

Falling to his brother’s side, Klaus put his hand over Diego’s, trying to ignore how quickly Diego’s blood began to ooze over it. “Tell me what to do!” 

Klaus’ eyes widened in alarm as Diego started to shift, making a move as if he were trying to get off the floor. But he ran out of strength almost immediately. Leaning back onto the floor, assisted by Klaus’ gentle guidance, his nose flaring as he forced himself to breathe, he whispered, “Get me up.”

“Wait..” Klaus blinked. “I’m sorry… what? Diego! You shouldn’t be moving!”

Diego pressed on his wound harder. “I’m bleeding out. Should... give gravity a fight.”

Klaus blanched at the thought, his mind racing. Forcing himself to speak, his voice came out quietly.

“Okay.”

Positioning himself behind his brother, he carefully wrapped his arms underneath Diego’s, grabbing hold of his wrist across Diego’s chest. Before lifting, he paused, waiting for Diego to do whatever preparations he knew he had to do. It was going to hurt.

“Get me up against the wall.” Diego grunted, putting on a brave face that Klaus already knew was paper-thin. Klaus nodded silently as Diego pressed down hard on the source of the bleeding. Took a deep breath.

And then he nodded.

Klaus wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Although he knew Diego was trying to hold it in, he knew there was a level of pain that willpower can’t contain. Klaus tried to move fast, part lifting, mostly dragging his brother the short distance across the small closet, but the hitch in Diego’s breath gave him away. The tiny whimper that escaped from between Diego’s gnashed teeth that sounded small and scared. 

“We’re almost there!” Klaus promised.

Diego growled in response. “Shut. Up.”

“You got it.”

Once Diego was leaning against the concrete wall opposite the door, both Klaus and his brother panted, giving time to let their bodies recover from the strain. Diego pressed heavily onto the wall, as if reaching for the cool surface that was providing his only relief. Klaus stared at his brother, his skin having become ashen, his hands shaking feebly over the wound as a fresh wave of blood pulsed over his fingers. But his eyes were still sharp, even if they were staring at the ceiling.

Why him? Why, of all the people it could have been, was it him? Why was Diego stuck with the least helpful, least functional, least… capable person he could have possibly been with? He hadn’t been able to stop Ben’s death. He hadn’t been able to keep Dave safe. And there sure as hell was no way he was any more competent this time. It was happening again. The world wanted to take someone else, and all Klaus seemed to be able to do was watch it happen.

Klaus looked away, shame filling him. “I’m sorry I’m so useless.”

“There isn’t time for that, Klaus.” Diego reprimanded, although weak and gently. He tightened his face as he fought to hold onto whatever strength he had left, but his hold was weakening. Klaus’ heart stopped beating as he scrambled to his brother’s side, timidly reaching to meet the side of Diego's ribs, feeling the wound. Then, he carefully pressed.

“Harder.” Diego winced. “Can’t be nice about it.”

Wordlessly, Klaus pressed down again, Diego took a sharp intake of breath, his chest rising and falling spastically. Klaus almost stopped, startled by Diego’s outburst, but Diego’s grip coiled around his wrist.

“No.” Diego breathed heavily, “Keep going.”

“Diego…” Klaus started.

“Keep. Going.”

But Klaus could barely hear him through the ringing.

Klaus always thought that he would be the next one to die. Maybe the drugs. Maybe the drug dealers. Maybe, and it scared him to admit it, he had always unconsciously hoped it would be him. Before this had to happen again. Before he had to think of this happening again. Because accepting your own death is much easier than accepting the death of others. 

He didn’t want this. Not again. He had barely survived. He wouldn’t make it again.

The quiet ringing began to crescendo.

“Klaus! Come on, man.” Diego grunted, his head rolling back to the ground. “Don’t check out on me!”

Klaus looked down at his brother and squinted in confusion.

Diego reached up and gripped the back of Klaus’ neck, his gaze boring into Klaus’ eyes. “You gotta sew it up.”

That zapped Klaus back to reality, the panic sparking his senses.

“What?!” Klaus sputtered incredulously “No! I haven’t gotten the bullet out!”

Diego’s glare hardened. “You aren’t going to need to if you don’t stop the bleeding soon!”

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Refusing to respond, Klaus stood and began searching through the shelves, knocking past Windex, rags, and boxes of Swiffer pads until his sights landed on a plastic First Aid kit. Klaus could have cried. Klaus balanced on his toes as he willed his fingers to do more than ghost over the handle, until his grasp hooked it, bringing it to the ground.

“Okay, Diego…” With shaking hands, Klaus began to examine the contents. He began to rummage through various brands of sterilization pads, gauze dressings, bandages, sticky tapes, scissors, many of the items’ specific uses lost on him. But he had seen his mother work before, and although he didn’t necessarily have all the fancy resources she did at the Academy, he was, if he were honest with himself, much more comfortable with the primitive nature of the slim findings before him.

The solitary, slightly crooked needle and thread about made him weep. It was clear that it was well past its prime, and also clear that it had been a last minute addition to the collection. Grabbing it, he bent the needle back into a more straight position, paused, wiped it down with a cleansing wipe for good measure, and turned to his brother.

Who had started to grow quiet.

“Diego?”

Klaus  could see unconsciousness tugging at Diego’s mind, his eyes fading in and out of focus, his breathing coming out rapid and shallow, and Klaus knew it was shock.

“Hey, man. I know you hate needles, but this is a little overdramatic.” Klaus joked, forcing out a hollow laugh. 

Diego didn’t even respond.

“Diego, please…” Klaus whimpered.

Kneeling beside his brother, Klaus first placed his hand on Diego’s throat, fighting back the urge to recoil at the cold, clammy skin that met him. His brother’s pulse beat rapidly, timidly flirting to reach Klaus. Choking down his dread, Klaus turned towards the needle. His trembling fingers worked to thread the needle, his frustration growing at each failed attempt. He tried to breathe, to time it, but he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate, losing focus and attention each time his gaze shifted back to his brother’s quieting form, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he tried to keep himself awake.

“Kl-s?” 

Diego slurred over the word, his brain heavy and clouded. Klaus tried to block him out, knowing that he was nearing the end of what he could handle. Knowing that if he let reality sink in… if he let it grab a hold of him, it was over. 

“Klaus...” Diego said forcefully and Klaus finally looked up and their eyes met. It took a few moments for Diego to gather the strength to continue.  “Can you… really t-t-talk to B-ben?”

Cold terror crashed over Klaus.

He couldn’t find an answer, dread trapping the words in his throat.

But Diego pressed on, barely looking at him. “Do you think… for me too?”

Violently wiping tears from his cheeks, the smell of Diego’s blood lingered as it mixed with his tears. “Stop talking.” Klaus snapped.

“S’not fault.”

“Shut up, Diego.” Klaus gritted, his eyes stinging.

But Diego didn’t answer. No rebuttal. No quick-witted comeback. And as much as it hurt him to hear Diego speak, he suddenly needed to hear it.

“Diego?” 

His brother didn’t move.

“Diego!”

Panic overtook him, fast and brutal. He clawed at the wound, which had begun to trickle out a lazy ooze. He looked at his brother’s face, pale and lifeless, as his breathing started to slip. Reality was crashing down, and there was only one thought on his mind, relentlessly repeating like a broken record.

_ Not again. _

He shook his brother, begging.

“Please, Diego!” Klaus squeaked. “Come on!”

A crash at the end of the hall tore Klaus’ attention from his brother. The sound of a door swinging open and smashing into the wall echoed until it met Klaus, and he froze. He could hear running, and he knew they were back. He knew they wouldn’t miss them this time. He knew he was going to die. And oddly, it wasn’t fear he felt, but relief. Relief that he wasn’t going to have to live in a world where his brother wasn’t. Relief he wasn’t going to have to try to keep breathing, to force each breath of air into his lungs, when the pain of still going hurt too much. Relief that he wasn’t going to have to work each day to build a callous over his heavy heart. Relief that he wasn’t going to have to wonder and wait for the next person to go while he was left behind.

Until a voice called out, desperate and shrill.

“Diego! Klaus!”

Klaus blinked.

_ Luther? _

“L… Luther?” Klaus choked, his mouth dry. He heard the footsteps rush past the closet, continuing down the hallway, and Klaus started to panic.

Swallowing again, Klaus forced himself to shout, but it came out just as pathetic. “Luther! Luther, help!”

He could have cried when he saw the doorknob turn. After an attempt, Luther pounded on the metal door.

“Klaus, are you in there?” Luther called out.

Klaus called out as best he could manage. “Yes.”

“Is Diego with you?”

The numbness started to return, pushing at the edges of his vision, coiling around his mind.  _ Was Diego with him? _

There was a slam on the door as Luther’s voice wavered, terror seeping in when his brother didn’t respond. “Klaus! Are you okay?”

Klaus wanted to answer. He wanted to, but he felt like there was a cavern in his mind, separating his thoughts from his body, and he couldn’t make the jump. 

He could hear Luther’s voice lowering in volume, as if backing away from the door.

“Klaus, just hang on! Get away from the door, because I’m coming in.”

Klaus had just enough time to register the command, and throw his body over Diego’s as Luther threw himself at the door. It only took two hits for the door to fly open, and Klaus was met with the face of his brother, filling the doorway as Luther’s eyes widened in shock.

And Klaus knew what it looked like. Klaus looked down at his hands, long stained with his brother’s blood. Kneeling in a crimson pool, his clothes sticky and heavy as they soaked in it. Through the numbing static in his mind, he looked dumbly at Luther.

Klaus could only manage one word.

“Help.”

He was going to be okay. 

Diego was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ended a bit more ambiguous than intended (in regards to Diego's state), but I just want to put some minds at ease. 
> 
> You're totally free to interpret this as you would wish, whether Diego makes it or not, but if author's intent matters to you, I HATE major character death. Too painful. So, in my mind, Diego's gonna be alright. I'm just a lazy person who wanted to wrap up this chapter. Perhaps at some point, I'll write a recovery chapter, but for now, I'm going to leave this where it is!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> In this home, we love and support Elliot Page.


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